


Sweet as Buttercup (Or the Time Jaskier Was A Cat)

by forgetmenotjimmy



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (kind of), Animal Transformation, Arguing, Curse Breaking, Curses, Cute, Episode: s01e06 Rare Species, Ficlet, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Jaskier and Roach Talk To Each Other, Mentioned Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Mute Jaskier | Dandelion, Mystery, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: Geralt came out of the alderman’s house to see a cat talking to Roach. At least, that’s what it looked like, the two facing each other and making noises. He stalked closer and was taken aback when instead of hissing and fleeing, the cat turned and meowed happily at him.“Hm.” Geralt said to himself. Strangely, the melodic meow reminded him of Jaskier.(It was Jaskier.)Or: when someone finally curses Jaskier, of course it was as the cutest looking thing ever.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 58
Kudos: 706





	Sweet as Buttercup (Or the Time Jaskier Was A Cat)

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many other things I should be doing but dammit this idea will not leave me alone. I will write a whole story one day but for now, this is what we got: a soupçon if you will.

Geralt was collecting his fee from the alderman of a small costal town one day when something very strange happened. The thinly-veiled suspicion and grumbled thanks were normal, as were the whispers and wrinkled noses. Geralt did not point out that he smelled due to vanquishing the drowners which had been plaguing the shoreline, instead ignoring all the human’s reactions which were now like bees buzzing in the distance. Nodding sharply, he took the coin purse and left.

Just outside the alderman’s house, a cat was talking to Roach. At least, that’s what it looked like, the two facing each other and making noises one after the other. Geralt blinked, watching as Roach snorted and pawed at the ground. The cat, who was perched on a low wall, chirruped and then meowed lowly, tail swishing. Shaking himself mentally, Geralt stalked closer and was taken aback when instead of hissing and fleeing, the cat turned and meowed happily at him.

“Hm.” Geralt said to himself. There had been a cat in the area previously which had hissed and spit, fur standing on end. He couldn’t recall what it had looked like but this one had a shiny coat as bright as, Geralt suppressed a laugh, buttercup.

As he approached, the cat repositioned itself and then leapt towards him. Geralt tensed but held still as the fur ball landed on his shoulder. The claws didn’t penetrate his shoulder plate and after turning around, the cat bumped its face against Geralt’s neck and jaw. Geralt swallowed, taking in the new experience. He couldn’t remember the last time a domesticated animal had cuddled up to him – Roach withstanding. Most of them smelled his otherness and barked or cowered from him.

This cat meowed again and purred, still rubbing its face against him. Awkwardly, Geralt walked over to Roach and deposited the money into a saddlebag. The cat padded down his arm onto Roach’s saddle and sat on its haunches. It meowed. Like a superstitious housewife, Geralt replied.

“Good day.” The cat stared at him…expectantly? Geralt coughed. “Thank you for keeping Roach company.” Roach whickered at her name and the cat’s eyes narrowed. It raised a paw, pressing it against Geralt’s chest, just below his medallion. Raising an eyebrow, Geralt asked. “You have a task for me?” The cat retracted its paw and meowed loudly, in triumph it sounded like.

Well, he’d been contacted in stranger ways. This would make a good story for the bard to compose a song to, if he could convince the man he wasn’t making it up. If they met again. It had been almost a year since the dragon hunt and Geralt hadn’t heard anything from the man beyond his songs being sung by the friendlier towns. They had gone longer without seeing each other but recently the bard had been on his mind.

The pain of losing Yennefer had taken many a month to fade but as if to fill the gap in his heart, regret over his words to Jaskier had rushed in. The pair were no strangers to harsh words being exchanged and of all his allies or companions over the decades, the bard was the most resilient to criticism, stony silence and general gruffness. If Geralt hadn’t known better, he would have said the man even liked the abuse lobbied at him every so often as they journeyed together – sometimes his mock-gasps of offence felt like they were covering a smile.

However, it was one thing to insult the bard’s songs, it was quite another to blame him for all the bad things in Geralt’s life. As frustrating as it had been to be tied to an innocent child or have his plan to wish the bond away rudely interrupted, neither event was truly the fault of Jaskier – he’d just had the misfortune to bring Geralt to a party and try to coax his troubles from him. By the lake, he’d called out Geralt’s lie; trying to offer if not a solution then a sympathetic ear.

Having reflected on that encounter, Geralt wondered if Jaskier himself had needed a sympathetic ear. His lamenting over the Duchess of Wherever had been as dramatic as always but however impermeable Jaskier’s relationships, the man still had feelings. Despite himself, Geralt felt guilty that he hadn’t acknowledged that. He hadn’t even known why Jaskier had wished a man dead. Did bards _have_ enemies?

Geralt stood staring at the cat, which stared back. Its eyes were grey. Uncannily familiar. “Well?” The cat meowed again, louder. Movement caught Geralt’s eye and he noticed several townsfolk eyeing him. It wouldn’t do to loiter. He huffed. “Are you going to lead me to the contract or not?”

The cat mewled low and shifted up to sit just in front of the pommel. It turned its head to Geralt and meowed again, impatiently.

“Hm.” Geralt responded, before untying the reins from the tree and mounting as carefully as he could. The cat remained in position and didn’t so much as twitch as Roach carried them out of the town. At every crossroad, the cat would raise a paw and point, Geralt feeling ever increasing curiosity. A mage’s familiar perhaps? His heart leapt as he thought of Yennefer but he forced it down again; this was not her style, nor was it remotely possible she would want to summon him at all.

They rode until the sun began to die. Geralt was about to suggest finding somewhere to sleep for the night when the cat twisted around and meowed loudly at him. Slowing Roach down, Geralt watched as the cat launched itself off and began to sprint into the grasses beside the road. Curiosity bit him hungrily and Geralt dismounted, leading Roach over to…Nothing.

The cat was pacing a small clearing in the grass, almost like... Geralt sniffed. It smelled like human. Had someone fallen and flattened the grass? Maybe two people had fought there. Well, there was a small bag, some dirty underclothes and a single boot at the scene. What the Hell had happened?

The cat yowled and hissed, head swinging this way and that. Geralt knelt at the edge of the impression and sniffed again. The underclothes in particular smelled like sandalwood and something else…something at the edges of Geralt’s memory. It was overlaid with another human smell though, and a powerful perfume: so two or more humans, a struggle? A robbery? But there was no body, and if the victim had been left alive: why not take the boot and the underclothes? Only kidnapping remained as an explanation but the underclothes… Why strip off those but keep one boot?

Standing, he examined the footprints on both sides of the space. The road was well-travelled so Geralt could only see where two people, probably male judging by the shoe size and…yes, the boot fit one of the tracks, came off the road from opposite sides. They saw each other on the road and met, walked to the side… Then one of them lost a boot, his underclothes and his bag and…Then what? He couldn’t make out where the triumphant man’s footprints took him next.

He inspected the bag and found a stale piece of bread, a small pouch, which at some point contained a kind of liquor, and a quill. This was not big enough to be a traveller’s possessions, they must have had more on them. He sniffed the inside of the bag...it had once contained parchment.

His mind turned. Not a traveller, a local? Stolen orders or papers? But why was a cat trying to tell him about it and no one else? Looking down at the cat, he saw that it had expelled its anger and confusion and was lying, quite dramatically, on its back, paws curled up.

It was obviously not what the little Buttercup had expected. Geralt sighed.

“They’re gone.” The cat looked up at him and rolled onto its paws, its small body trembling, likely exhausted from a long trek from this spot into the town. Pity welled up in Geralt and he glanced at Roach. His mare tilted her head and Geralt sighed. “Well, you’re free to stay with us until…” He trailed off, not sure what condition he had even had in mind. The cat chirruped questioningly. It was growing dark and as no clear solution to the mystery presented itself, Geralt decided to go on to find somewhere to make camp. The cat followed slowly, tail hanging low.

Glad he had purchased some foodstuffs in the town, Geralt quickly made camp and then offered the little creature some ham. The cat sniffed it tentatively before eating. Geralt ate some himself in between watching the tiny jaws munch up the food. He felt warm.

“You need a name.” The cat looked up at him. “I can’t keep calling you ‘cat’ in my head.” The little orange tail flicked this way and that but with no real enthusiasm. “Roach? Any ideas?” Roach snorted and Geralt sighed. The cat licked around its mouth and then its paw, wiping its face in the way normal cats did.

Where was Jaskier when you needed him? He would come up with an apt and romantic name for this strange cat. In the end, he decided on his first thought when he’d seen him.

“Buttercup.” He decided. Buttercup paused in cleaning to look at him. Geralt cleared his throat and explained. “For your coat.” Buttercup looked down at himself, amusing Geralt, before looking up again and meowing – in what Geralt hoped was agreement.

In any case, Buttercup finished cleaning himself and padded over to Geralt, inviting himself onto Geralt’s lap and bopping his head against the witcher’s hand. Carefully, Geralt stroked the silky ears and his lips twitched a little at the loud purring. The trust shown to him by this strange, little creature was not taken for granted.

So Buttercup joined them on their journey, sitting in front of, behind or, more often than not, on top of Geralt. He would drape himself across the witcher’s shoulders and bat a strand of white hair or perch precariously on a shoulder plate, purring in Geralt’s ear. Sometimes he would hunt mice and other small rodents when they stopped for water or for Geralt to search for monster tracks. He would always lick his asshole in Geralt's line of vision when annoyed and liberally rub himself on the witcher post-bath. Geralt growled to himself a lot as he found hairs: everywhere.

However, when they passed towns and villages, Buttercup would wind around the legs of maidens, or patiently suffer the muddy hands of children. His presence confused people and they sometimes forgot to be afraid of the witcher when the cat meowed sweetly at them. And cold nights were never as cold when the little cat was curled up beside him, purring contentedly.

Sometimes, on warm sunny days, Buttercup would meow to Geralt and Roach, low and then high, as if trying to sing. He seemed to be experimenting, throwing in chirrups and clicks between the meows. After a while, Geralt swore he began to hear patterns in the cat’s song, though Roach snorted when he’d suggested it.

Geralt soon found the tension in his shoulders loosening a little, the gaping hole inside him filling with soft light; the silences he’d grown to loathe were filled by the little chirrups and meeps. Strangely, the melodic sounds reminded him of Jaskier.

(It _was_ Jaskier.)

(But Geralt wouldn’t figure that out for a long time – so long that Jaskier would always bring it up whenever they quarrelled from then on. Often, Geralt would lose those fights as he was secretly glad to hear the bard’s voice again, though sometimes he missed the weight on his shoulders and the soft purring vibrating into his skin.)

\----

Jaskier/Buttercup (but picture him with grey eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> As previously mentioned, I will write the entire fic one day (explaining how and why he was cursed, how Geralt finally figures it out and breaks the curse,PasPas more cuteness, maybe some angst) but just had to get ‘Jaskier scent-marking Geralt’ out there. If anyone else wants to play with this idea, please do! I’m sure with magic in this fandom we’ll have lots of animal transformation fics, why not start now?  
> Also, I love that Jaskier means ‘buttercup’ in Polish but when they were translating the books, they thought Buttercup was too effeminate for the character, “better call him Dandelion instead”. Does this mean I will have Geralt call him ‘Buttercup’ in as many fics as I can? Why yes, yes it does.  
> Also, also when I saw the Witcher ep 1, I was convinced that Roach was a person transformed into a horse. I’ve since discovered that no, Geralt just likes talking to her. But in this fic, she’s not quite an ordinary horse as Jaskier is able to communicate with her, when he’s a cat.


End file.
